


Magical boarding school (Draco Malfoy x Original character)

by Crystal_BangTan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosophers stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Humour, Magic, Original Character - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_BangTan/pseuds/Crystal_BangTan
Summary: "No need to be so formal,"  he snarled, walking further into the crowd of people who still danced. "It's just me."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In which Thorn Darkwood struggles to balance being a hero with dealing with her own family issues and romance.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Cho Chang, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Kudos: 11





	1. The existence of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY YA’LL, this book already exists on Wattpad, won’t lie about that one ;) but I feel it’s time to move forward if I want success for this book.  
> This book has become a massive part of my life, and so has the main character. I’ve worked really hard to incorporate her into this world, so please show her love and enjoy!

The lights flickered behind me, like they always did when I was mad. I'd like to believe it was all up to coincidence, but if you ask me, I'd have to say it was paranormal. Not that I believe in such things, but there's only so many times you can brush such happenings off. Eventually you stop questioning it.   
Sometimes it'd be things like shaking mirrors, taps attempting to turn themselves on... eerie luck. It was honestly the most normal thing in my life at this point, and that was definetely not okay itself, but it's been that way for missions. 

When I was only seven years old, i’d written a story in class. Drugs, weapons, hardships in love, (not that I had a very good grip on the subject), and I was so proud. I felt on top of the world, I felt I’d done something incredible. But apparently not since Miss Wood told me she was disturbed. Not very nice if you ask me.  
I pretended to be fine with it, though I had no idea that all the under-desk trays flew onto the floor, losing all the children's hard work.   
The experience made it difficult to call it luck. But what else could I say? When I noticed, I wasn't even scared, just shocked, in a sense of the word, like my emotions were just that strong. The school is still finding out who pulled this prank and why. I never really expected anything to come of this flaw of mine. But alas, as I slammed the bedroom door behind me, my anger was brewing once more as I was followed.

  
"Thorn, we are not done with you!" My mum sounded angry as her voice bellowed from the bottom of the stairs, her foot steps becoming louder. I know I couldn’t blame her for being mad since I basically abused the lady. Now, it's not like I've ever hit my parents. To hear of people even lifting their hands to those who raise them right turns my stomach... but for the first real time in my life, I'm scared. No, I'm absolutely terrified. 

No one fathoms out in their head how they would react if they were told they weren't normal. _"Hey, daughter, ghosts and goblins exist! Go to a fucking boarding school!"_   
Not exactly how it happened, that's a given but I assume you understand. 

"Go away!" I yelled, flinging myself onto my bed, face smooshed into a pillow. I closed my eyes tight, breathing evenly as possible as to not take out my confusion on my mother again, like a bad daughter. I’m not like that. I’ll never be like that. Squeezing my fists together, I sighed as the clicking of my door amplified in my ears just as my mother’s sick, shrill voice did. 

"Thorn, why would I leave? I didn't tell you so you can get mad and brush it the fuck off!" I sat up and faced her, widening my eyes in disbelief. Why I can't overreact right now is beyond me. I'd like to ask why the fuck she's the one that's freaking out.

Though I know--I know that not everything is about me... she must carry her own bit of shock. Although when she and dad spoke it through with me, they both seemed knowing.

_  
"You're not the only one in your family to have gone through this, Thorn. We know you’re confused." Dad seemed too clam, as did mum as she stood in the doorway to the sitting room, facing her husband who sat comfortably in his claimed chair, fingers interlocked. "Who else?"_

_And they froze- Looked at each other and turned back. "We aren't going to complicate things now, Thorn. It doesn’t matter.”_  
Only this time, that's exactly how it went. If one of them had had an experience as strange as my ‘Holy fuck, and owl just delivered my mail!’ One, I’d really like to know about it.

but what I wanted to feel comfortable didn’t matter as I watched the rise and fall of my mother's chest, the softening of her sparkling eyes. She brushed her blonde hair away from her face and just settled next to me on my bed.

"Look," she sighed, looking directly at my wall in front of her, decorated in poleroids of the family and colourful paper butterflies. "You are going to Hogwarts. It is the best thing to do. Discover things, Thorn. Do something that no one else is lucky enough to even see." She placed a determined hand on my shoulder, and I turn away from her. I was so normal. I hung around with complete bastards, like any other child, sucked in school, had my strong points, had a future planned... but the look on her face. Determined. Just like I was.

I bit my lip to stop the almost ammused grin from forming on my face. I was just like her, emotions intact, drive, my outlook on life. Finally making a point to take my chances, I turned to face her. "What should I expect? I have no idea."

"He'll tell you." Her eyes looked desperate. I reluctantly nodded.

_He_.

Sounded to me as if they barely knew the guy they were talking about half the time, but they wanted more than anything for this _family friend_ I’d never met to be the one to show me everything.

"Fine."  
But then I perked up at the sound of my mother's voice once more. "Back then, he done a lot for us, and we just can’t seem to thank him enough." And that meant something, I knew that much.  
She handed me the letter and I took it with a sigh. “He’d love to see you all grown up.”

The man they just can’t thank enough... I wondered.

~~~~~~~~~~

London was a pretty scary place to be alone in, especially when you’re ten. There are just too many loud people, violence and harassment everywhere. I actually couldn’t wait to meet this 63 year old man that my parents trusted with my life to whisk me away from the centre of London... But let me tell you what I wasn't fucking expecting from this experience. An eight foot beast man with a hairball for a head approaching me. Not everyday you see one of those. As this person walked up towards me I looked up as he got closer, craning my neck by the end up. Lucky for me, I didn’t think he was threatening. All about the right perspective which, dangerously enough, could still always end up the wrong one.

"Thorn! Wow, you aren' a’ all wha’ I'd expected," he bellowed, smiling sweetly for no longer that a few seconds. The man actually dropped his smile shyly, looking slightly embarrassed somehow. It didn't help that my resting face was somewhat cold. I smiled appreciatingly at him and held out my hand. "Not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but I'm quite the optimist," I chuckled, lightening the man up. His beetle-like eyes crinkling into creasants. I can seem a little stand-offish when you initially look at me. My black hair contrasts with my light silver eyes. I can sometimes look... Mean. Unapproachable. People like that in said "muggle world." Cold girls. 

I hadn't complained much about it. It doesn't take much to approach people first and parade that you can be a great person, easy to get along with. Sometimes you just had to go for it first.

His giant hand engulfed my small one. "When ya smile, ya su'nly look like the frien'liest of ‘em all." 

Note to self, smile all the time. 

  
A new thing to be proud of, I guess.

"So... my mum and dad only told me to wait for you..." The truth is, I came here with no idea what to do, who this guy really was. But I hadn't had much of an option. "But, what's your name? You know mine," I smiled. 

"'m Hagrid! Should'a told ya so, wouldn' 'ave expected ye ta know!" He blabbered with a chuckle. I nodded my head understandingly, attempting to look back up at his face as he shifted the bricks in a fucking wall... “How is it you know my parents?”

”ne’er me’ ‘em. Dumbledore jus’ tol’ me you migh’ need a bit o’ guidance, is all!”

”How come?”

”Summin’ about a shift, you’d be all confused. I don’ really know.”

I shrugged it off, and allowed his to lead me through strange places in one long street. The sign read Diagon Alley, and in fairness, I fucked with it. 

I would have gone to this boarding school without knowing a single thing if it weren't for what I was experiencing right now, wand shops, book shops, a lot of Busy work though. 

The acceptance letter signed Minerva McGonogall claimed that first years required uniform including a black starter tie, whatever that meant, white shirt, jumper if pleased, a grey skirt or trousers. Might as well splash out on both, I thought. We also required a wand, a Cauldron, text books and a pet if we desire. And let me tell you, I did. Ever since we'd been in Diagon Alley. 

  
I was most excited at the idea of getting an owl and let Hagrid know immediately, and he lead me straight to the right direction. 

Let me tell you a little about this place, Diagon Alley; it was like an old village, loads of shops, loads of people. Loads of people in odd sorts of clothing, but it felt great to see. It was all so new, so brilliant. Too brilliant to have noticed the body that ended slamming into mine. I glimpsed at the white blonde head of hair, all I could really see and bowed my head slightly. "Oh! Sorry."  
The boy muttered a quiet, "don't worry about it," as he walked away. And when he weaved through the crowd, I noticed a bag labelled Malkins robes in his hands. I shrugged my shoulders and continued to follow behind Hagrid to **magical menagerie** where I'd get to choose my own pet.

But straight away, I saw him. The black Ciccaba huhula owl, feathers so raven he could have just been a shadow. His eyes were the strongest green and they contrasted from his body. He reminded me of myself. It stared at me as I approached him, hand outstretched. He drew back and for a split second I thought he was going to bite me, but instead, he nuzzled into me. "This one."  
And with out a second thought, he went inside and came out with a tall, not comparing to Hagrid, lanky woman who untied the owl from the perch. He was fairly small.  
I decided I wanted to carry him myself, and hadn't faltered in my decision even when I'd been carrying him around for an hour.  
He 0was beautiful, really. I Called him Stone.

So far I'd had a lot to learn and remember from new currencies to wands which was truly an experience to get.

I was determined to find the right stick for me, and I tried so many, too many even! But when we found the right one, my fingers wound perfectly around it's base and we'd worked perfecly in sync, bell on the desk moving from one side to the other, albeit scraping across the wood slightly...  
10 3/4 inch, cherry wood, dragon heart string.  
"Aye, ye best be 'oldin' on to that one. That wand is yer new best friend." Ollivanders, a brilliant place, and I'll always remember that my wand chose me. 

He showed me where to be and when to be there to catch the eleven o'clock train. This was just something I had to do myself, I guess. Of course I'd take my parents, I only had to go to Kingscross station in the centre of London, no magical barriers to get there.  
It would be my 11th in three months, October 31st. So it'll be my first birthday away from my parents, weird since everyone else were to get theirs on their 11th birthday.  
I inhaled and looked up at the tall man with the scruffy beard. "Thank you so much. I owe you."   
And I really did. Atleast, I certainly do believe so. 

"Nah, Thorn. I'm just doin' me job." He looked thoughtful for a minute, digging his hand into his pocket, and taking something out. "These muggles won’ give ya the ticket so..." He handed me said tickets for the train. At first I didn't understand why he'd give me them prior to the journey but I got to thinking that it's no ordinary train. Plus, why would they not give me the ticket? That's just rude, is it not? But when I look at it... 

"Plantform 9 and three quarters?" I looked at him and gave his a questioning look. "Nine and three quarters?" I repeated, emphasising the question, slightly. There's no such platform at any train station. "What do all the other kids who go to this boarding school think when you say that?"  
He just furrowed his brows. "Only e’er helped one other studen’ this way. Really nee's it, poor lad."  
"Oh," I nodded. Must be in sort of a situation. I wasn't even allowed to know which of my parents were magical. As suspicious as that is, it's also probably the reason Hagrid had to help me out. I wonder what the situation with this other student is. "Well, that's real nice of you. But we should probably go."

Giving him a glance, he just nodded me to follow him out.   
I scuttled quickly behind him to catch up. "So, How can I find a platform that doesn't exist?"   
"You'll figure it out. Yer a clever girl!" He laughed slightly.  
I just nodded, almost intrigued. 

Hogwarts... just can't wait.


	2. Pride and Determination.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we watch Thorn get her kick start at friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there! Just a reminder that this book was written when I was 13 years old!  
> I’ve edited it to make the most sense without changing too much. I promise the book improves. I’ll be updating often as, at almost 18, I have 60 chapters written.  
> Please, enjoy!

I woke up on the day,  the day with butterflies in my stomach. Awful feeling. My eyes were extremely heavy, the sleep in my eyes sticking one lid to the other. Incase you hadn't noticed yet, I come from what most people would assume to be a normal family, something I'd figured too. A perfect home life is something I'd always considered myself to have, a loving environment and what not, so my brain was swimming with what ifs and buts and hows. Though I never once asked myself why, because maybe no one had that answer.

I rolled over in my bed and checked my clock by my bed. Eight o'clock. Better than when I woke up two hours ago, still half asleep and panicking about where to go and what to do as if I was already late. That, I wasn't. Though, when I finally gave up trying to sleep until my alarm actually went, I forced myself out of bed and resumed to get ready for the day ahead.

I'd washed up in the bathroom and got dressed in my bedroom, digging through my packed suitcases first. I settled with a black pair of jeans and a pink top and thought that was decent enough.

I pulled my ebony hair into a pony tail and I thumped down the stairs to see my parents already eating breakfast, scowling at my gorgeous, hungry owl, waiting for me. I smiled despite my nerves. "Good morning, my main mucka's."

Woukdnt you bet they've given up trying to understand a word I'm ever saying, so they just continued to eat and pointed at a box of cereal. "Shut up. Eat."

Krave. My favourite cereal ever. I grabbed the box and poured some into my bowl. "I love you too, dad," I exaggeratingly sniffled, wiping an invisible tear as I fetched the milk, making my dad smile. "yeah, yeah."

He tossed me the bag of Stones food and I shook my head pulling in towards me. “He’ll be gone almost the entire year, you can deal with him for one morning.”

A fine morning it was. I'd almost forgotten that I was going away to a boarding school, away from my family, my friends, my peers-

"-and, for gods sake, Thorn, stop calling it a boarding school!"

"Well, it literally is. I don't even believe in magic."

I know. I've seen it. I'm on my way to school specifically dedicated towards the 'practice' if you will. But part if me is unwilling.

When we arrived in London, my parents literally grabbed me by an arm each and ran like Naruto into Kingscross Station. "Okay, go!"

Only, I stood there facing a fucking brick column. "Go where?"

They looked around anxiously at the fairly empty station, subtly pushing me forward.

"Run directly into it," mum said in a hushed tone. I laughed and turned to face them. "you've got to be shitting me. You want me dead?"

At this, dad looked sternly at me. "I will literally throw you in. Seven minutes!"

I rolled my eyes and ran towards it jokingly, pressing myself against it. "Happy?" Only I couldn't press against it. I was facing a fucking train. Not a second later, something else banged into me from behind. "Ouch!"

My suitcase.

When I looked at the train, I was mesmorized. It shone a great red, adorned in some places with pure gold. I grabbed my case and gave it to a man who was collecting bags and pets. Pets.

Stone! I looked at the brick wall just in time to see his cage thrown in. "FUCK!" I rushed to catch him, having the wind blown out of me and not in the way that you think. I sighed and gave the owl to the man, giving a thankful nod before I stepped on the train, attempting to pull my big case on with me, but to no avail. I regretted packing so much straight away and my arms began to feel weak. "Come on!"

"Need some help?" A voice sounded, and I turned to find the source. A boy maybe a little older than me with red hair and a cheeky grin stood expectantly.

"I-"

"I can help out too," said another voice, very similar to the first. I snapped my head to see the same boy now on my right.

"Wait, what the-?"

"Come on. Don't be relentless."

"Wait, is this what magic is?" I questioned to myself looking between the boy and his astral-projection, asking more myself than anyone else.

"Oh no, George, she's simple," said the boy on my left

"Better get out now, Fred," the other mocked, about to sprint. I almost laughed at my own stupidity and shook my head. "No, wait! I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed. Please, help?" I pleaded, noticing that I was pretty much blocking this entrance of the Hogwarts express. I really hated to hold people up. "You owe me it for calling me simple too," I reasoned, attempting to bump my case up the groove of the entrance, pulling it so hard the wheel scraped the inside of my ankle.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on!" Fred joked, grabbing the handle to my case as George side stepped to grab it from the bottom. With a collective effort, the pair got my case into the train and I thanked them, whole-heartedly, putting out my hands to grab my case, but instead they walked down the train, my case in their grasp.

"Well, come on then!" They chorused.

I snapped out of my confused daze and followed behind the pair.

"Oh, look, there's our little brother, Ronnie," chimed Fred, nodding towards another red-head. "Yeah, he spotted you earlier. What is is he said, Fred?"

"That he fancies her?"

"Wasn't it that he felt as though he was struck by Cupid's arrow?" The other added.

"Wow, you're really those kind of people," I commented making George turn his head over his shoulder. "May I be struck by lightening if I'm lying."

"I'm waiting for it."

We wondered a little up and down the train as the pair chatted away, bringing up a boy, Harry Potter who was to be attending Hogwarts from this year and onwards. "He basically cheated death when he was a baby. Really wicked. You know who killed his parents and when he went for him, bam, backfired."

"Left only with a scar shaped like a bolt of lightening."

Eventually we stopped at a relatively empty compartment. The twins pushed my case up on the ledge and and said their goodbyes.

"Bye~"

I sighed when I felt settled and turned, only just noticing young boy about my age with dark hair, probably a new start, and smiled. "Oh, Sorry. That was pretty rude of me. Mind if I ride with you? I know absolutely no one."

The boy smiled and nodded. "Of course."

I took a seat across from him and smiled. "Well, my name's-"

"Sorry, do you mind? Everywhere else is full." I turned to the compartment door where the redhead from earlier was standing, poking his head through. I recognised him as the twins' brother.

"Yeah, sure," we smiled.

I waved, semi joyfully as he sat directly across from the first boy.

"I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley." The boys smile was pleasant, and I immediately felt comfortable.

"I'm Thorn Darkwood." We shook hands and we looked expectantly the boy across from us. The one with dark hair, and broken round glasses.

"Oh, I'm Harry. Harry Potter." I shook his hand, gleefully. "Nice to properly meet you."

I sat back in my seat, content with having already met people.

"So, is it true?" Ron breathes, disbelieving. "Do you have the s-" for a moment he looked hesitant. "Scar?"

"Oh-" Harry smiled, lifting his hair away from his scarred forehead.

"Wicked," the other let out. It looked like a lightening bolt, which peeked my curiosity, and then I remembered what I'd heard just minutes before. I couldn't believe it already slipped my mind.

It's different hearing it in Harry's perspective, the little he can remember, being the tender age of one at the time. Remembering only a green light...

"I believe you. But I don't believe in magic."

They looked at me funny so I was quick to defend myself. "Don't get me wrong, I’m not under the impression that this is a hoax, but, I don't know. Its hard to believe still."

A while later, a short, stubby woman with grey hair came around with a candycart.

"Anything off the trolly, dears?"

Ron sighed, taking out what appeared to be a sandwhich from his pocket. "No thanks. I'm all set," he spoke, unsurely with what I assume was supposed to be an assuring smile.

As I opened my mouth to also refuse my hunger owing to the need to not eat all the goodies in front of the boy who wasn't getting any, Harry's voice chimed in with, "We'll take the lot."

We looked down at Harry's hand where he had already dug out the shit-tonne of money from his front pocket.

"Woah!”

"Bertie Bott's every flavoured beans?"

Asked Harry, picking up a box of Jelly beans.

I looked to Ron now, questionably. I had never heard of such a product in my life, still a lot to learn from currency to candy.

I shrugged just before Ron answered. "They mean every flavour! There's chocolate and peppermint, and there's also spinach, liver and tripe," he spoke. I scrunch my features at the notion, but I'd always be game to try one, and that's just that. I took the pack from Harry and shook a few into my hand, giving them back quickly after.

Ron noticed and subconsciously made it worse. "George sweared he got a bogey flavoured one once!"

"Sweared isn't a word, plus George seems like the type of lying bitch that would say such a thing," I said, glancing back at the box all the while Harry took his jelly bean from his mouth. "Though, it doesn't seem unlikely." They were a disgusting product, and I don't see that story being too far fetched.

"They aren't real frogs are they?" Harry asked, looking at a new package, coloured with purple and gold labelled, ‘Chocolate Frog.’

"It's only a spell. Besides, it's the cards you want. Each pack's got a famous witch or wizard. I got about 500 meself," Ron stated in a proud manner, yet not coming across as being arrogant.

"Open it," I spoke.

Harry opened the package and a brown frog, a literal chocolate frog had jumped out and on to that window. I stared in shock as it croaked. "Watch it!" Ron warned as it hopped towards the open window. Then, just as expected, it jumped out and was blown away by the fast pace that the train was going at. I tried my best to hold in my laugh towards the end. That door frog.

"Oh, that's rotten luck. They've only got one good jump in them to begin with."

"Hey, I got Dumbledore," he said, examining his card.

"Well, knowing Ron, he probably has about 175," I smirked, watching Ron shake his head.

"Only six," he popped his collar. “I’ll trade you for Scabbers though if you get Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

My brows shoot up, and I just notice the scrappy rat, barely peeking out from inside Rons coat. I take Harry’s card and mutter to myself. “How did I not notice that?”

Flipping the card around, I read the back aloud.

“Considered by many as The Greatest Wizard of Modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald in 1945, for his discovery of the 12 uses of Dragon blood and his work on Achemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Approximately 150 years old, Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music, tenpin bowling and... This sounds like a bloody dating profile. Head 150 years old?”

“Thought he’d be older, did you?” Ron said, biting into his candy bar.

“What, no. I...”

“Hey, he’s gone!” Harry squeaks in surprise, taking the card from my hand.

He moved it from side to side, assuming it was a trick of the hologram, but to no avail.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day, can you?"

Me and Harry looked at eachother, both expressing the same confusion. “Well, in the Muggle world, people stay in photos.”

“Really!? They don’t move at all? Weird.”

All of a sudden, a squeak sounded from Rons jacket, and the rat falls, snoring almost human-like."Pathetic, isn't he? Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow. Guys wanna see?"

"Yeah!" We answered simutaniously.

“Make a believer out of me.”

Ron clears his throat and swishes his wand a little towards Scabbers. "Sun-"

He was interupted when the door of our compartment was opened and a girl with bushy brown hair appeared, invading our conversation rather abruptly.

"Has anyone here seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

"No," Ron answered.

"Oh, are you doing magic?" She asked. "Let's see, then."

She welcomes herself into our compartment, sitting herself down. I give her a look, and she seems to not even notice. Ron, taken aback, clears his throat and starts over.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Scabbers snorts loudly, but otherwise remains fat, grey and asleep.

"Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I’ve only tried a few simple spells myself, and they’ve all worked for me. For example...” 

She points her wand towards Harry’s face, and his eyes widen. Luckily, she stops herself short. “Goodness... you’re Harry Potter, aren’t you! I know all about you, of course. I was doing a little recreational reading and you’re in  Modern Magical History; The Rise and fall of the Dark Arts and  Great Wizarding events from the 20th century .”

“Am I?”

“Didn’t you know? I’d have found out everything if it had been me.” She raises her wand back towards Harry’s face. “Anyways.... oculus reparo.”

The break on the bridge if Harry’s classes disappears in an instant. He removes them, mouth agape, examining them for a mark. 

“There. That’s better, isn’t it? I’m Hermione Granger by the way.”

She looks expectantly at me. “Thorn Darkwood.”

She smiles, turning to Ron who still is feeling a little undone. “I’m... Ron Weasley...”

“Pleasure. Do any of you know what house you’ll be in?”

I quirked my brow, catching up with the topic change, a little perplexed by her presence. “What? House? Like, school houses?”

She nods, curtly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Precisely. I’m hoping for Gryffindor– –I hear Dumbledore himself was in it– –But I think I might just die if they put me in Slytherin.”

“Well, What is it according to?”

“Personality traits,” Ron answered. “I’m from a long line of Gryffindors myself. It’s basically, but not limited to your personality and they way you handle things. There’s not a top or a bottom level, they’re just different.”

I look at the girl who invited herself in, shrugging my shoulders questionably. “Then why would you be so against being in Slytherin. You might just be one.”

She looked absolutely offended at this, lips in a thin line. “That was You-Know-Whose house...”

“Well it isn’t now.”

“Anyway.” She rises to her feet and makes her way towards the door, giving us a glance over her shoulder. “You three had better change into your robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon.”

She turned, with quite a purpose I must say, and left us all stunned. We exchanged a few glances, unsure of what to say until Ron opened his mouth. “I don’t know about you... but I’m avoiding that girl at all costs.”

Harry and I laugh, and I reach for my case, with great trouble, to pull out my uniform and waited the extra half hour before the train stopped.

The sky had been painted a dull blue when we’d gotten into the fresh air for the first time in hours. Loads of kids fumbled around, chatting and laughing, voices drowned out by none other that Hagrids. “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

Ron seemed occupied, rubbing a patch of dirt off his nose with the sleeve of his robes. 

Hagrid gives a small, two-fingered wave as he came loping out of the darkness, massive lamp swinging in this hand. Ron stops, hand dropping to his side as he looks up, Dumbstruck. 

Hagrid directed us all towards a long running lake, a fleet of small boats gliding silently towards us. I look at Harry, then to Ron, and we excitedly follow everyone else who had claimed their own boats, clambering into the nearest one with quite a bit of trouble, almost falling right into the water before we’d even sat down. 

As the boat glides along the water, a glint of silver from the moon shines between the dark trees surrounding the water. 

It’s like a dream, completely transfixing when Hagrids voice through, loudly.

“Oh- you there? Don’ be trailin’ yet fingers in the water. You migh’ find you don’ geh them all back!” 

I turn, watching Hagrid as he told off a boy with white-blonde hair. He narrowed his eyes, glaring darkly as he turned, whispering to the other two boys in his boat.

I peer into the blackened water, seeing only my paling reflection looking back, then a glitter of light dancing on the surface. The gold light takes over the entire surface of the water. I look up, and watching the massive castle, magnificent, old getting bigger and bigger. 

The schools hallways where that of a museum. We were lead up this grand entry hall, walls built with stone, lit with flaming torches. In front of us stood a rather severe-looking woman, clad in an emerald cloak. She stood in front of a pair of towering doors, chin held high as she surveys us. 

"Welcome to Howarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Now, while you are here, your houses, in many ways, will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you...”

Out of the crowd of students, a rather large toad leaps fourth, croaking up at this witch.

"Trevor!" A boy yelled, bustling to gather the toad in his two, small hands, blissfully relieved. He looks up, nervously peeking at the woman who is not impressed. He backs away into the crowd, muttering an apology as she continues, stiffly. 

“...will be a credit to which ever house becomes yours. The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily.” 

She glowers at the disruptive boy, then back out, through the doors. There’s a brief glamour of sound as conversation begins to pick up again, Harry turning to us, curiously. “How exactly do they sort us?”

“Some kind of test,” Ron explains. “Fred says it hurts like hell, but I’m sure he was joking. At least... I think he was.”

Just then, the blond boy from the boat pushes his way towards us, shadowed by the same boys he’d been whispering to. He takes the woman’s place, openly gawking at the scar on Harrys head. 

“So it’s true then, what they’re saying on the train? Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” 

Harry doesn’t talk, letting his eyes slide to the boys behind him, appraising the pair. “Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

Ron coughs, sniggering lightly as I followed suit, mostly at Rons in-dignifying chuckle, snorting through my nose.

The boys head snaps towards us, eyes narrowing. 

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask  yours . Red hair? And a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley.

Within a second, I stopped laughing, taking a quick step forwards. “-That wasn't funny."

For a second he stared me down, top to bottom with a scowl. "Don't get me started, will you. You haven't a clue who you're talking to," he spat, inching closer to me. "You must have made a mistake.”

"I don’t give a titty who I’m talking to."

At this he only scoffed.

"You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter." The boy only just turned back to Harry, ignoring my existence. "Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” 

He extends his hand, but Harry’s gaze remain levelled. 

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

Malfoys eyes glitter with rage, and he finally drops his hand and turns away when a voice came from behind us. “Well, he’s rather disagreeable, isn’t he?”

We turned to see Hermione, watching as he left just as the teacher returned. 

"We're ready for you now.”

She lead us into a strangely splendid hall, lit with hundreds or candles floating midair above four long tables tables lines with students. The ceiling showcasing beautiful starts, and an icy blue moon. 

“It’s not real, the ceiling,” Hermione drones. “It’s only bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History.”

The professor sweeps to the front of the room where a wizards hat, patched as frayed, sits on a stool.

“Before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.”

I watch with interest as the great wizard himself rises from his seat at the high table. “Yes, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

The hall thunders with applause, and I laugh, not one to nitpick at the fun. 

“I hear he’s a genius,” says Hermione.

As the applause subsides, the hat twitches. I freeze, eyeing the brim which rips open, and the hat begins to talk. 

“ Oh, you might not think I’m pretty, but don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me. 

There’s nothing hidden in your head the sorting hat can’t see, 

So try me on and I can tell you where you ought to be.. .”

The hat takes a bow and students brake out into more applause, and I look around the room for speakers, anything that would explaina talking accessory that practically takes a bow when the professor pulled out a roll of parchment.

“Now, when I call your names, you will come forth, put the hat on your head, and be sorted.” She looks at the list, calling out the first name. “Hermione Granger?”

“Oh dear,” she mutters to herself. “Here it is, isn’t it? The moment. Goodness. What if the hat says nothing and we’re all just left standing here forever...?”

As she goes off, mumbling, Ron leans in with a hushed voice. “Mental, that one. I’m telling you.”

As soon as the hat is on her head, it perks up. “Gryffindor!”

Students clap and she smiles brightly, hopping on her way to the table of those clad in red ties. 

“Draco Malfoy!”

“Slytherin,” Ron says, and I nudge his ribs when he takes a seat, hat barely touching his head.

“Slytherin!!”

Malfoy smirks, swaggering to the loud table, green-tied.

“There’s not a Witch or Wizard who went bad that weren’t in Slytherin. Draco’s father was one of the first to joint You-Know-Who when he got Power. And one of the first to come back when he lost it.” 

“Susan Bones!”

A ginger girl dashes up to the front, Dumbledore watching on placidly as she’s sorted into Hufflepuff.

“Thorn Darkwood.”

The two boys give me a pat on the back as I move towards the hat, looking over the crowd, all eyes on me. I turn to Dumbledore who gives me a light smile, prompting me to pick up the hat and put it on, waiting patiently to hear my house.

I gasped when the hat whispered in my ear.

"Well, someone's ambitious. You'll make it far, won't you? You're dedicated, patient... Very witty and creative, accepting... But what is this? You're cunning and self-assured. A leader! You're brave, chivalrous," it said. Was I really all these things? I hadn't a clue, though, admittedly, I was waiting for an ego-boosting comment on my intellectual ability. And even though I knew it wouldn’t be coming, I was filled with pride and determination upon the students hearing my best traits being listed off. “Oh, I felt that... Gryffindor!"

I breathed a sigh and from the stool, I made my way over near Hermione, basking in jeers and claps.

"Thorn! Well done!" Hermione congratulated me, shaking my hand tightly. I had to refrain from pulling away, irritated.

"Hi, i'm Fred, he's George," Fred introduced as if I'd just met him for the first time.

"Hiya, Thorn. Congrats on Gryffindor."

I shook the hands of the two lean, ginger boys, Fred and George. "Thanks. Rons brothers, are you?" I play along with a smile.

They nodded, Fred leaning forward, "Really, Thorn, I do apologise for the way he's been oggling you." The other leaned forwards to join him. "Been stalking you since you entered platform nine and the quarters." I rolled my eyes. I don't have brothers but I have cousins. They're basically the same thing, teasing, setting you up to fall. "Better duck and cover then," I laughed. As soon as our conversation ended Ron sat himself down, clueless as the twins congratulated him. And all I could think was that I had a friend in my own year before classes had even started.

We watched Harry as he was sat now, only hoping he was placed in Gryffindor.

"Please, not Slytherin."

He begged and pleaded with the hat, setting him self up to be hated by all the Slytherins. Not the worst thing, I figured when the hat yelled,

"Gryffindor!"

Prompting everyone at our table to stand up, clapping loudly. He'd come and sat next to Ron and across from me.

Suddenly, making my mouth water, the feast of all feasts had appeared in front of my eyes, and I wasted no time digging in. 

A tad further down the table, a small boy spoke, Irish accent broad, to another beside him. “I’m half and half. Me dad’s a Muggle, mam’s a Witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

As the older, red-headed boy next to Harry leans over to pour juice in to his goblet as well as his own, Harry nods to a teacher at the high table. The man with long, dark hair and shifty eyes. 

“Say, Percy. Who’s that teacher talking to professor Quirrell?”

“Hm? Oh. That’s Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house.”

“What’s he teach?”

“Potions. But everyone knows it’s the dark arts he fancies. Been after Quirrells job for years.”

Then, out of nowhere, a loud uprise of shrieks from students around the hall. I turn quickly to see a literal volley of, what I can only assume to be, ghosts floating around the hall, one heading in our direction, and swooping right past us. “Hello, sir. Nicolas. Have a nice Summer?”

The ghost stops short in front of Percy, a frown on his face. “A dismal. What with the Slytherins winning House Cup three years in a row, the Bloody Baron’s become unbearable.”

The ghost nods towards the Slytherin table towards a rather horrific, blood-covered ghost, hovering imperiously. “Then again, he’s always been unbearable...”

“I know you!” Ron suddenly perks up. “You’re nearly Headless Nick!”

“I prefer Sir Nicolas, if you don’t mind.”

“ Nearly headless?” Hermione begun, shrilly. “How can you be  nearly headless?” 

I rolled my eyes, shovelling the chicken into my mouth.

“Like this.” The ghost seizes his ear, and pulls, his entire head able to rest on his left shoulder. For a split second, I wasn’t even able to chew. That was the shortest-lived second ever seen when I realised I could manage to stomach the view for the delicious food in my mouth.

Neville, unlike myself, began to blanch, pushing his plate away. 

“I think I’m done eating...”

After a few more students had turned their nose up at the feast, the Headmaster rose to his feet, making the hall fall silent. 

“If I may say, I have a few start-of-term notices to announce. First years should note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all pupils. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. And finally, please note that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death...”

I perk up a little, sharing a look with both Harry and Ron. But before any one of us can say anything, Dumbledore continues. “And now, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!”

McGonagall rolls her eyes, obviously as Dumbledore wields his wand, enchanting the pieces of parchment beside us. 

We refer to the words written, and attempt to join the song, rather discordant.

“ _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we’ve forgot,_

_Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains rot..._ ”


	3. Real house wife’s of Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we meet the character Thorn will be stuck with, and we'll see how she deals in her classes

I’d felt as though I had to drag my stomach across the floor after the all-you-can-eat feast in the big hall. Not that I’d even begin to complain. I was fed and taken care of, and now, I was super sleepy, exhaustion settling into my body.

I decided that I’d try to be excited tomorrow instead, even with Peeves the poltergeist popping up for a surprise visit every-so-often. 

_ “Ooh! Ickle firsties! What fun!” _

He wagged his tongue and even bounced his walking stick off Neville’s head. 

But we pretended that didn’t happen. 

I was beyond ready to jump into the nearest cozy bed I could find, even if I couldn’t actually fall asleep.

“Hey,” a quiet voice came. I turned, looking at this girl, quite notably beautiful, dark brown eyes shining. She fumbled with a long piece of her black, silky hair, passing me a piece of paper. “I’m Parvati Patil... I can’t find anyone who is in the same dorm I am,” she said.

I shot up a brow, taking the paper from her hand, scanning it with my tired eyes. “There’s my name there.” 

I pointed at the name written beside her own, that nightmare, Hermiones and someone called Lavender Brown. The names were written on a rectangle shape, presenting the doors upstairs by the looks of it. “Second room on the left... looks like we’re rooming,” I smile kindly, nodding her to walk beside me. “How come you have this? I didn’t get one.”

“They’re right there,” she said, tilting her head towards a stand by the stairs. “You’re meant to collect them as you go, but I was too scared to go to my room without knowing anyone, especially without my sister.”

“Oh! You have a sister?”

She nods, giving me a smile. “Yeah. Her name’s Padma. She was sorted into Ravenclaw, unfortunately...”

“This is her first year too?” I ask, stopping outside the door. “So, What, you’re twins? Must be scary to be separated. I imagine you must be together all the time usually.”

“Usually, yes. I hope she’s making friends.”

I place my hand on the door nob, giving Parvati a look. “Well, even if she’s not tonight, I’ll be her friend.” I twisted the handle, pushing the door open, greeting the two girls in the room. 

“Oh, Thorn! I was wondering when you’d get here! I’ve just started unpacking!” Hermiones voice rung out straight away. I breathed in deeply, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve just seen your owl, too! He’s absolutely gorgeous. Does he have a name?”

I ignored her question, looking for Stone. His cage was propped up by a bed in the corner. “Parvati, that’s Hermione. Which would mean, you’re Lavender.”

I slump down onto my bed, nodding to this Lavender character. She wrung her hands and smiled. “Oh, Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Lavender and I were just getting to know each other. She’s um... from a long, long line of football fans... she was just telling me all about them, if you’d like to listen in.”

I look at the girl, clutching her wand wrapped with a bright pink ribbon excitedly, feeling dejected. I perk up, and reach for one of my cases pulling it open. “So, anyways, my owls name is Stone. He’s really cool.”

Night had well and truly fallen, and I was all cozy, in my pyjamas, ready to fall asleep. I’d refrained from slapping Lavender silly, which was a plus, considering she let us know eVER personal fact about her, including the story of how she’d met Padma on the train, and that they’d practically already been best friends. Hermione has gotten straight to organising her books for tomorrow’s classes.

I’m sure we weren’t going to get along too well in the long run.

I sat up in my bed, remembering that I hadn’t actually checked the timetable for tomorrow at all, and remembering that I really couldn’t be bothered checking now. 

I sighed heavily, pulling my hair into a ponytail, and out of my face so I could get a good nights sleep. 

“Psst, Parvati,” Lavenders voice came. “Do you think Harry Potter is cute?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I groaned.”

I rolled out of bed the first morning, not sure where I was for the first few minutes. I was groggy, tired, and it was too bright outside.

“Hell, I should’ve closed the curtains last night,” I yawned, shielding my eyes from the stream of sun, attempting to force the curtains shut. 

“At least stand up then make a fool of yourself,” Parvati commented lazily, stretching exaggeratedly. 

“No.”

Hermione rolled over, bringing a clenched first to her eye, rubbing it clear of sleep. I watched her, waiting for her to talk when a smile grew on her face at a rapid speed. “Oh! First day! I can’t wait! We’ve got Transfiguration, and Potions!”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, feeling awful that I was annoyed. I nodded rapidly, right smile on my face. “Mhm, great. Now, who is showering? I’m a night shower.”

Lavender popped up her hand, making a small sound. “I have to shower in the morning,” she said, moving towards the door. “But maybe I’ll leave it until night time. I’m not sure where we do that...”

Truly enough, we hadn’t been shown the showers. I’d likely bring that up with one of the teachers, perhaps the head of house. 

We got dressed into our uniforms and waited for a bit to talk. Stuffing my Transfiguration textbook down my jumper, I got started French braiding my hair, leaving the room. 

“I’m going to find a bathroom to brush my teeth, I’ll let you know if there are showers.”

My dorm mates were nice. All of them were friendly. But I couldn’t sit in a room with them for too long. There was guilt about leaving Parvati in there, but part of me wanted to laugh about it. The sadistic part of me.

I’d have laughed right then and there about it if I wasn’t growing entirely frustrated with the stairs in this bloody castle, more and more by the minute. Still trying to perfect my second braid, I let go of my hair, turning to a group of people clad in Slytherin ties. Shrugging, I called over to them. 

“Hey! Can you help me get to the great hall? I’m not quite sure where to go.”

One of the boys nodded, kindly. “We’re heading down for breakfast anyway.”

I breathed a relieved thank you, and followed them around the the castle, just listening to them talk, answering the basic first year questions: How are you enjoying Hogwarts so far? Been hexed yet? Hexed anyone else yet?

The standard, every day stuff.

“I’m starting to think that students hexing each other is a regular occurrence...”

“Nothing major! But with access to magic, why wouldn’t you use it?” 

I tilt my head to the side, seeing his point which basically just terrified me to core. 

“Scary,” I admitted. “But I kind of like it! I feel like a ten year old living the life of a witch... well... you know what I mean.”

“Loads of people feel that way,” he nods, freezing for a second. “Wait.”

“Did you just say you’re ten?” A girl speaks, sticking her head out from behind this boy. 

“Yeah?” I furrowed my brows, spotting Harry at a table close to the entrance of the hall. “Oh, there’s my friends. Gotta bounce! Thanks for helping me out.”

I took off, bounding towards the bespectacled boy, making him jump slightly, breath hitching as I slammed a hand down next to him. He looked up at me, looking relieved. “Why would you do that?”

I just smiled, sliding into the seat next to him. He gave me an odd look, pointing towards my hair, one half undone, miserable and given up on. “Oh!” 

I pull my books from my jumper and set them out in front of me, getting started on my hair. “So, Harry, you excited for your first day?”

“It’ll be a complete breeze,” he spoke, mimicking that of a person who actually has confidence. 

“I see. Where’s Ron?”

“He’s coming down. Seamus has let us know just how accident prone he is when it comes to magic. I didn’t want to be around when he started pointing his wand at his bottle of water.”

“Right...” I trailed off, securing my braid. “So we can expect a Tsunami, I suppose.”

Harry nodded, eyes trained on someone behind me. I turned around, following his gaze towards Parvati, Lavender and another girl who I had yet to meet. 

“Coming to class, Thorn?” Parvati asked.

I quickly turn to the table, grabbing a piece of buttery toast, practically shovelling it in my mouth. “Okay, wait. Harry, these are the girls I share a room with, Lavender and Parvati. And this is...” I droned, looking at the other girl expectantly. 

“I’m Padma.”

“Oh, you’re the second Patil. It’s nice you meet you,” I greeted, smiling. 

“You too! Parvati mention you were the first to talk to her.”

I nodded shoving the text books back down my jumper, earning some odd looks. “Yeah, she and I go way back. Harry, aren’t you coming?”

“I told Ron I’d meet him here. Go ahead.”

He didn’t show up to class on time. Nor did Ron. It wasn’t any wonder why, considering the halls of this school were like a bloody maze. 

I eyed the cat in the desk, a little edged, and not only because I watched Professor McGonagall morph into the feline with my own eyes.

Her eyes were trained on the door right up until it burst open, and in came Ron and Harry. I inwardly cringed at the awkward moment as everyone glanced at them before turning back to their work.

"Thank god, we made it. Could you imagine the look on ol' McGonagall's face if we were late?" Ron spoke to Harry, not a care in the world. 

Though he knew he wasn’t quite off the hook when she leaped from her desk and look her normal form mid-air, walking closer to the pair with a stern expression.

"That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed in awe.

"Well, thank you for that assessment Mr, Weasley. Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr, Potter and yourself into a pocket watch?" She scolded. "That way one of you might be on time."

"We got lost," Harry defended.

"Then perhaps a map. I trust you don't need one to find your seats.”

She nodded them off and walked back to her desk as they sat down. Ron settles into a seat right by me, Harry getting comfy behind him. I learn over as quietly as possible and whisper, “good going,” with a laugh.

Ron gave an obviously fake grin as he pulled out his stuff. “Right, What are we doing, then?”

I leaned closer, making sure to turn so Harry could hear too. “We’re just studying the meaning of transfiguration. If you go to page 213, there’s a passage on the subjects origin which could be useful. The first page has a passage on what Transfiguration is. You use that passage to answer the questions below it.”

“What about these other exercises?” Harry whispers, eying the first page.

“You can do those, but it’s unlikely we’ll get around to that today.”

At the end of the lesson, we packed up calmly, gathering at the door.

“We have potions next,” I said, groaning slightly. Perhaps it’s was completely different from Muggle chemistry in more ways than I imagined. One can only hope.

Ron nodded slowly with a gulp. “With Professor Snape...”

“Man up!” I joked, patting his back as we followed the other first year Gryffindors.

Looking behind me, noticed Hermione hot on our tails, hanging around us. 

Perhaps she’s not fit in as well as she’d hoped with the other girls’ this morning. She had t been with them. 

I ignore her, letting her do what she wants owing to the need of not wanting to be a complete asshole for no reason. 

I sat beside Ron, some girl I didn’t know planting down at the other side of me, leaving Harry to sit at the front with a boy who greeted him kindly. Hermione took the spare seat on the other side of him. Ron nudged me, motioning towards the girl as if we were insane. 

“...she’s just trying to make friends. I don’t think anyone in our room took to her all that well.”

“She’s mental,” he argued, deadpan.

I jumped out of my skin when Snape threw the door open, marching to the front of the room, setting rules as he went.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class."

He turned, facing us all, barely giving us enough time to realise that the class had even officially begun. "As such, I don't expect many of you will appreciate the subtle silence and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few... who posess... the Pre-Disposition."

He slowly, almost  painfully slowly, fixed his coat before continuing, watching as Malfoy looked back, chin in the air, overly proud. 

"I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and insnare the senses. And tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory," Again, Draco looked around. To him, it was all about him, all about what  he was going to achieve.

“...and even put a stopper on death." Now, that was the eyebrow raiser. Not just for Malfoy who was still smiling but for everyone in the room.

"Then again," he starts, eyes on Harry who scribbled notes into his notebook. "Maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possesion of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough...  to not pay attention. " 

Hermione tapped Harry, bringing him back into the room. He quickly put his quill back in the ink and give Professor Snape his full attention.

"Mr, Potter."

He stalked slowly towards him. "Our new celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Hermione shoved her hand up in the air, faster than you could say Hogwarts. No one was surprised. Harry just shook his head.

"You don't know?" Spoke Snape. "Well, lets try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" 

Yet again, Hermionethrew her hand up in the air.

"I don't know, sir."

"And what is the difference between Monkswood and wolfbane?"

Harry still didn't know.

"Pity,” Snape spat. "Clearly, fame isn't everything. Is it Mr, Potter?"

Harry looks at Malfoy who laughs along with Crabbe and Goyle, loud enough for Snape to hear, but he chose to ignore it.

" Clearly , Hermione knows. Seems a  pity  not to ask her." Harry spoke up. I start to laugh, triggering a small boy, and a rather rounded one to slip up too.

“Silence!” Snape snapper pulling a seat out aggressively, sitting to face Harry, telling Hermione off.

"Get your hand down, you silly girl."

He and Harry’s eye contact was tense. It even had me shifting in my seat.

"For your information, Potter, asfodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful, it is known as the draft of the living dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and will save you from most poisons. As for Munkswood andwolfbane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite."

He stared intensly into Harrys narrowing eyes.

"Well, why aren't you all copying this down?"

We all quickly turned to take note, if we could remember it all. He walked back to his desk, picked up a quill and spoke. "And Gryffindor's, please take note that five points will be taken from your house," he looked at Harry.

"for your classmates cheek."


	4. Hogwarts seeker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorn experiences her first flying lesson, only to discover that her friend is elite.

“He’s really got it in for you, Harry,” I said, reading over my notes from today’s classes.

It was our first break of the day, and I was was glad to have it after the intense show we were forced to endure. 

The four hour glasses at the back of the hall were shifting, precious Gem count dropping for Gryffindor, rising for Slytherin. Snape, the apparent head of Slytherin house. How suspicious. Harry looks absolutely glum as the small Irish boy further up the table muttered.

“Eye of rabbit, Harp string hum, turn this water into Rum!”

He waved his wand more and more agressively.

"What's Seamus trying to do to that glass of water?" Harry asked Ron, worriedly. 

"Turn it to rum," Ron explained. "He actually managed to make a weak tea the other day before-"

PFFT

The table rumbled, catching us off guard when a blue flame shot over the rim of Seamus’ glass. 

“Two knuts says he loses his eyebrows by the weeks end- Ah, mails here!” I follow Rons gaze to the the ceiling where dozens of owls swooped, dropping letters and parcels in front of all the kids. I smiled down at the letter from my parents, and the small package beside it.

"Hey, look! Neville's got a remembrall!" Shouted a boy next to Seamus and Neville who holds out a glass ball filled with white smoke, examining as it turns a deep scarlet.

"I've read about those!" Gloated Hermione. "When the smoke turns red, it means you've forgotten something." 

He turned to object in his hand, looking at her.

"The only problem is, I can't remember what i've forgotten."

“Your robes, Neville,” I told, opening my letter.

Your owl came to get a letter from us, Thorn. Can we expect that every week? 

We trust you’re making friends, and we trust you’re being your friendly self and learning a lot. 

We expect you to be back for the Christmas Holidays just so you don’t forget about us. We’ve told your friends you’re at a boarding school for the “pranks” you’ve pulled in school and in the house, so remember that when you’re home.

Have fun, 

Mum and Dad 

I tucked the letter into my robe pocket, unwrapping the cool watch from the small package, sliding it onto my wrist.

“Guys, somebody broken into Gringotts. Listen,  believed to be the work of dark witches or wizards unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist that nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. That's odd.”

I leaned over to read the paper Harry was reading from, skimming over the story.

“That’s mad!” Said Ron. “Dad said there are Dragons guarding some of the vaults.”

“No, it’s just odd... That’s the day Hagrid and I went...”

“Weird. If nothing was taken, they’d have been after your money, Harry.”

He shakes his head, leaning in even closer. “This wasn’t my vault.”

We exchanged glances, rolling the paper back up, Harry tucking it under his arm. 

“Well, don’t worry too much about it. We should head out to the pitch.”

The pitch we had to share with Slytherin of all houses. 

We’d been separated into two lines, a broom stick at each of our left sides. 

A woman with short grey hair and eyes that resembled those of a hawk greeted us, rangy.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson! Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand to the left side your broomstick. Come on, now. Hurry up.” We all scrambled to make sure we were on the right side. “Stick your right hand over the broom and say, Up!"

Harry's broom flew right into his hand while mine rolled over like a pathetic dog. I sighed, putting on a little more focus. 

"Up!" I repeated. My broom had flown swiftly into my hand just as Malfoys had, and I kicked myself at little for being in sync with him, annoyingly determined to best him and his cocky expression. 

Distracted by a loud smack, I laughed aloud watching Rons broom rise, bonking his nose aggressively. He brings his hand up to the throbbing ache, groaning. 

"Shut up,“ he smiled, watching Harry and I as we both sputter and chuckle.

"Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. Grip it tight, you don't want to slide off the end.”

As she glides down the line, she lets out a small gasp. “Goodness Mr. Finnegan, what have you done with your eyebrows?”

“Lost ‘em, ma’am,” he shrugged, showcasing his synched and patchy brows. 

“Excuse me, madam Hooch,” Malfoy cuts in. “Given that a few of us have been of sticks for years, would it not make sense to separate the expert flyers from the neophytes.” 

He glanced towards Harry meaningfully.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. But I’m sure even an expert flyer such as yourself can appreciate the benefits of reacquainting oneself with the basics. Your grip, for example. It’s thumb in, not out.”

As his face reddens, the three of us try hard to hide our grins. 

“Very well. Now, When I blow my wistle, I want each of you to kick of the the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly, and touch back down.”

I took a deep breathe, steadying myself over the broom, feeling more than just slightly unsafe at the idea of floating on something to thin, On my whistle, 3... 2..." she blew her whistle. 

Neville was the only one to manage to hover. Maybe a bit too high though, the nervous boy entirely jumping the gun.

“Mr, Longbottom! Exactly where do you think you’re going?” 

He clutches his broom desperately, shooting higher, much like a cork from a bottle. He drives himself into the nearest tree, flips upside down. An uproar of voices start, classmates begging him to come down. 

Instead he soars down, rocketing through the crowd, most of us diving out of the way, or ducking low before he’s back into a spiralling climb into the sky.

“Neville Longbottom, you get down here this instant!”

He peers down, shakily, pale-faced, eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“On your broomstick though, Neville!” I panicked, watching him fall to the ground with a nasty thud, broom smacking down beside him. I can almost be sure I’d heard a crack, following behind madam Hooch towards him. 

"Oh, oh, oh. It's a broken wrist," she tuted a few times, helping him to his feet. "Good boy, come on." As she got the pained walking, her voice turned hard as she held his wrist gently. "Everyone's to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing, understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say, Quidditch."

I breathed a sigh, feeling the weight leave my chest as he was being treated. I never realised just how quickly my heart was beating until Malfoys annoyingly loud voice started up again.

“Did you see his face? Maybe if the fat lump'd given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse," he laughed, throwing and catching Neville’s rememberall. 

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry commanded,hand outstretched, expression stern.

"No," he said, turning to us, looking Harry dead in the eye. "I think i'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," he flung it a little and caught it before mounting his broom and taking off perfectly horizontal. "How 'bout on the roof? A tree?” He suggested. "What's wrong Potter? Bit beyond your reach?" 

Harry looked daringly at Malfoy, and mounted his broom.

"Harry, no way! You heard what Madam Hooch said. And besides, you don't even know how to fly!" Hermione warned, but Harry ignored her and took off anyways, anger bubbling inside him.

"What an idiot."

I walked up with Ron to get a clear view, noticing Harrys complete balance and control. “Is it just me, or is he a bloody brilliant flyer?”

“No, it’s not just you...” I say, hearing our classmates gasp and jeer, exchanging similar comments as the pair exchanged words, too far in the air to be heard. 

Within a few seconds, Malfoy draws his arm back, sending the rememberall through the sky, and Harry takes off like a javelin, taking a full plummet as the gift, diving recklessly steep. My chest tightens as he get closer and closer to the ground, but he doesn’t really seem to care. He reaches out his hand, catching the ball, only feet from reaching the ground, straightening his broom and landing, running back in our direction. He grins at the cheers grow loud, stumbling when I pull him into a one-armed hug. “You have to teach me to do that!”

“Yeah, mate, that was  bloody brilliant!”

In the misdst of cheering and congratulating, ignoring Malfoy when he had landed, we were shortly distracted. "Har-ry Pot-ter!” McGonnagalls voice sounded. We turned quickly to face her to find she was marching towards us with a glint of meaning in her eye. 

“Chin up, Potter! They might let you stay as Hagrids assistant!”

“Come with me," Harry looked back at us with pleading eyes, but there was nothing we could do. 

Apparently there was a study group I should definitely be at if I wanted to pass my classes, which I was incredibly insulted by, to be perfectly honest, but I was too busy, waiting for Harry to spill the beans about what had come of his conversation with McGonagall. 

“She’s basically shoved me on the Quidditch team,” he said, excitable smile pulling at his face.

“You’re in the Quidditch team!?” Ron bellowed, eyes wide and jaw open. “But you’re a first year?”

“What’s Quidditch? Like, magic football?”

Ron looked at me questionably, brows scrunching together. “What in the bloody hell is football?” 

“A sport where you kick a ball with your foot... pretty self-explanatory.”

“Sounds boring,” he clapped back, full attention back to Harry. “So what position are you playing?”

“Seeker?”

“A seeker!? But first years never even make the  house team.  You must be the youngest seeker in a...”

“-century. According to McGonagall.”

“That’s pretty intense, Harry,” I chimed in, nudging him with my shoulder. “Got some pretty high expectations to meet.”

Just then, Fred and George caught up, closing in behind us. “Well done, Harry, Wood’s just told us!” The one who I’m fairly certain is Fred spoke.

“Fred and George are on the team too,” said Ron.

“Our job is to make sure  you don’t get bloodied up too bad,” said George. “Can’t make any promises of course. Rough game, Quidditch!”

“Brutal! But, no one’s died in years. Someone will vanish occasionally...”

“But they’ll show up again in a month or two!”

They pair wandered off, leaving Harry troubled.

“Oh, go on, Harry! Quidditch is great. Best game there is! And you’ll be great too!”

“But I’ve never even played Quidditch before. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“But you won’t make a fool of yourself,” Hermione answers. The three of us turn, wondering just why she keeps appearing. “It’s in your blood.”

Apparently Harry was a seeker. A position in the iconic Wizarding sport. Don't know how that girl found out but I wasn’t the only one impressed when she pointed out the golden plaque in the award case on the second floor.

James Potter, Quddich player; Seeker.

"Woah, Harry! You never told me your father was a seeker too!" Said Ron.

"I- didn't know,"

Harry sounded genuinely surprised. This sudden revelation just hitting him. He'd only just found out about the game himself. 

"Come on, let's go. Can't stare at it all day," I smiled, leading Ron and a Harry away, ruining the many seconds of silence. “We can come back and have a little look whenever you need to now.”

“That’s so cool...” Harry droned as he walked away, smile lingering. “My father was a seeker!”

“Weird that she even knew  that before you did,” Ron spoke, nodding to the girl behind us. I dug him with my elbow, earning a loud groan. 

“Ouch! I’m just saying... It's weird how much that girl knows! It's not right-"he complained, well aware that she was on our tails as we ascended the staircase. 

“Ron, I know," Harry muttered, trying to hush him. But to no avail. A flight behind us moved. Hermione looked but continued to climb the many steps.

"I'm telling you, it's spooky. She knows more about you than you do."

I replied to Ron, "Who doesn't? Incase you haven't noticed -which I doubt you haven't- everyone knows about Harry. They knew everything before he ever did - Woah!" I shout as out staircase started to move, jerking us forward. We all gripped onto the banister to stop ourselves from flinging side to side, braving until it stopped at a door I’d not been through yet.

"Let's go this way," Harry suggested.

"Before the staircase moves again!" We ran though the door and into a spooky, dark room. The only light source was from back where we'd come from.

"Does anyone else feel like... we shouldn't be here?" Asked Harry.

"We're not supposed to be here. This is the third floor. It's forbidden!"I give her a look, not understanding what she was getting at. She sighed loudly, bringer her arms down to her side. “Dumbledore told us so during our first feast!”

I nodded, slowly, looking around the room for anything interesting. “That explains why I never heard a word he said.”

“Well, we hadn’t actually eaten yet!” She replied smartly. I ignore her, trailing my finger over the dust of the doorframe, intrigued. 

“I wonder why this place is forbidden...”


	5. Lived to tell the tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Thorn establishes what it means to be a friend.

I continued to examine the room, not seeing much note-worthy stuff, questioning why on earth we’d be forbidden to be here. 

“Because Dumbledore said so. Let’s go!” Hermione answered back, turning on her heal, but stopping dead in her tracks at an echoing meow.

We fall suddenly silent, and a shadow scaling the wall catches my eye, making me subconsciously hold my breath. 

I turn to the others, jerking my head in the opposite direction, unsure of whether we were about to get caught or eaten. The other three nod slowly, quietly stepping further from the way we came.

“Who goes there?” Filch demands prompting us to run before we were seen, reaching a door at the other end of the room. I grip the handle and twist it hard. “Lead me to them, my sweet...”

No matter how hard I pull, or how rapidly I twist, the door refuses to budge. Ron worries rubbing his hands down his face, voice hushed. “That’s it. We’re done for!”

“Oh, more over!” Hermione grumbled, nudging past the boys and knocking my hand away. She pulled her wand from her sleeve, waving it at the handle. “Alohamora!”

The door swings open, and we stare incredulously at the flawlessly done spell.

“Standard book of spells: Chapter seven!”

As we spill into the room, Hermione presses her ear against the door, ignoring Ron. “ Chapter seven? ”

“Shhh! Is Filch gone?” I whisper, waiting for confirmation. She nodded after a few seconds, sighing in relief. 

“Good,” said Ron. “He probably thinks this door’s locked.”

Hermione turns to him, matter-of-factly. “It  was locked.”

“...and for good reason...”

We turn to Harry, and lying on the ground, only a foot away, is a dog. My breath hitches, taking in the size, almost the size of the room. The dog shifts, three separate heads tossing and turning, all sets of eyes blinking open, jaws disconnecting revealing yellow fangs dripping with saliva. 

The dogs watch as they start to growl, and we stand, unmoving until we can let out a loud, throaty bunch of screams, headed straight back out the door.

The animal fought against us as we pushed the door closed behind us, nearly beating our adrenaline rush to keep our limbs attached.

Finally, we pushed the door shut, managing to fumble with the lock, rushing back down the way we came without a word.

We breathed heavily, moving our way through the castle, navigating towards our common room, eventually coming to descend the stairs. 

“I’m not hallucinating, am I?” I asked, slowing down to breathe. 

“No!” Ron scoffed, face crinkled. “Are you kidding?! What do they think they’re doing?! Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school.”

I shook my head, clueless as the next guy. 

“Don’t ask me!”

Hermione chimes in, rolling her eyes with a click of her tongue. “You don’t use your eyes, do you? Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“I wasn’t looking at it’s feet!” Ron defended as we climbed the stairs. “I was a bit preoccupied with its heads! Or maybe you didn’t notice... there were  three !”

“It was standing on a trap door which means it wasn’t there by accident.” We stop outside our dorm, heart race slowing down. “It’s-“

“-guarding something?” Harry interrupted. 

“That’s right. Now, if you three don’t mind,  I’m  going to bed before  any of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled.”

I quirk a brow as he closes the door to  our room in my face, exchanging a look with Harry and Ron who shakes his head. “She needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No kidding. Get to your dorms safely now,” I say, opening the door to my own. The pair nod. 

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, night.”

I woke up the next morning, still with a sense of gracelessness, through it only took me a few seconds to place myself in my bed at Hogwarts. 

The sheets wrapped themselves around my legs as I let out an obnoxiously loud groan, stretching and sitting up, eyes meeting Parvati.

She’d given me an odd look, bringing a finger to her pursed lips. “Thorn, you sounded like a bloody whale.”

I snorted loudly, rolling over again. “Shut up, Patil.”

I finally got out of bed, gathering clothes, fragrances and a hairbrush as I went, dragging myself around the room in the process.

I pulled my yellow top over my head, and buttoned my jeans, contemplating whether or not to put my hair up. “Hey, Parvati, what do you think?” 

I turned to her, hair gathered in my hands before letting it go. She thought for a minute, arms folded across her stomach. “Hmm, put it up.”

I nodded, tying it up high while I slipped my trainers on. “okay, thanks. Catch you in the great hall,” I said, shutting the door quietly, seeing as Lavender was still snoring away.

I took my journey to the great hall, not too busy, and somewhat quiet still, making it easy to spot the red-head and the boy whose singed hair had yet to be fixed focussing on a piece of parchment. I made my way towards the pair, kneeling on the seat next to Ron, looking down at the question on the parchment. 

“It stops the affect of most poisons. Effectiveness level: superior. Could save someone’s life.”

The boys looked up, Rons shoulders sagging greatly as he deflated in his seat. 

“Thank you. Been trying to remember that for ages! Now, where is it found is the real question."

I rolled my eyes. "The stomach of a goat,” I said. "We learned this in out first poitions lesson!" I laughed, looking at his paper to see that the answers he didn't miss out are all correct.

“She is something else, that one,” Seamus said, chin resting on his hand with a dazed look. 

I laughed, planting down properly next to Ron. “Yeah, don’t give me more credit than I’m worth, and don’t look at me like that.”

I knocked his arm away, making him almost face-plant into the desk. 

“Oh, I’m not the only one,” he says, eyes darting to Neville, red in the face, being dragged towards our table by Dean. 

“Ha ha. He’s just shy,” Ron defended, lightly elbowing me. 

He motioned towards another question he couldn’t answer. 

What are the three ingredients to a forgetfulness potion?

Lethe River water

Mistletoe berries

Sprigs

“Valerian sprigs, and you need to change your brew time from 6 minutes to 5 minutes and 30 seconds. The example says you’d be using a brass caldron unlike your own Pewter one.” 

“What did I tell you?” Seamus sighs. “What a brain.”

“Shut it. I was never exposed to magic, so I’m still in my excited phase,” I explained, smiling up at the two boys who had arrived at our table. “Hey, guys’.”

“Hiya, Thorn,” Dean greeted, grabbing an apple from the middle of the table, prompting me to grab a plate for myself. 

I filled it with a croissant, bacon, egg and cheese with a side of strawberries. 

“Want me to put you together some breakfast? I feel like a chef,” I said, filling a glass of orange juice. 

“How could I refuse something like that?” He said, rubbing his hands together. 

“Great. Neville?” 

“Uh, I’m okay.”

“You’ve got to eat something,” I argued, giving Dean his plate of pancakes, sausage, syrup with orange. 

“He’s just nervous around everyone since he fell off his broom,” Dean said, digging into his meal. “He’s embarrassed.”

“Neville, that was ages ago!” Said Ron.

“Yeah, it’s October! It was over a month ago,” Seamus says as I gesture towards a plate, nodding me on to make him something.

“I can always feel people eyes on me.”

“That’s because they’re wondering if you’re going to start asking people if they’ve seen Trevor. It’s what we’ve learned to expect.”

“You’ve not lost Trevor again, have you?” Came Harry’s voice. 

Neville blushes as Harry sits down across from him. “...No. at least, I hope not.”

“Oh, good. I mean between that and falling off your broom...” he shook his head, not noticing Nevilles wide eyes as he helped himself to some waffles. 

“He just thinks everyone is still on that,” I hinted. 

“I know, I know. He’s been going on about it. Gave up trying to convince him otherwise.” 

“Well, enough of that, we have classes on Halloween. How shady is that?” Dean went on. I groaned loudly, mocking a cry.

“At least we have charms! You know it’s also my birthday on Halloween,” I reminded, lofting the spirits at the table. “Yep, yep, finally eleven.”

“You mean twelve?”

“No... eleven.”

“You can’t be turning eleven,” Ron stated, brushing me off. “You get your Hogwarts letter when you turn eleven.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, I didn’t. Maybe they didn’t want to have to wait until next year. It’s only a month in.”

“Maybe... Seems kind of odd.”

“How’s the birthday girl?” Parvati teased loudly from the other side of the classroom. 

“Not great. My bones are cracking like a true senior citizen,” I joked, making the class laugh. Some heads turned towards me, smiled aimed, mutters of, “ohhh, Happy birthday, Thorn!” here and there’s.

“Oh, thanks.”

“We’ll have to plan something,” Dean suggested, the praise aggravating Malfoy to no end, as he sighed from his seat beside me. 

“Now, everyone, pay attention!” Professor Flitwick calls from his place in the front of the class atop a pile of books. “Don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing. Swish and flick.”

I position my wand over Malfoy and I’s shared feather, repeating the movement. “Wingardium leviosa.”

The feather flutters, but never leaves the table. 

“I’ll try.” Malfoy rolls his eyes.

“And enunciate!” Flickwick starts, pointing to us. “Never forget wizard Baruffio who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a Buffalo on his chest!”

“Wingardium leviosa!” 

Malfoy tried, only ending with the same result. 

“Okay, So what aren’t we doing right?”

“Stop talking. You’re just annoying me. That’s why I can’t get it.”

“Oh, So it’s nothing to do with the fact that you don’t know the spell properly and refuse to work on it because you don’t like me?”

“Half of it’s right,” he spat with a glare.

I leaned back in my seat, pressing my tongue to the inside of my lip. “Huh. You know, did I ever tell you how jealous I am of the people who haven’t met you?”

He snaps his head up, brows furrowed in frustration when the professors voice cuts through as he motions to the feather levitating in the air. 

“Oh, well done! See here, everyone. Miss Granger’s done it!”

And suddenly, a little closer to us, there’s a rumble, and smoke curls between Harry and Seamus. 

"I think we're going to need another feather over here, proffessor," Harry said as their feather fell, slowely back down infront of them, burnt to a crisp.

"It's leviosa, not levio sar! " Ron mimics Hermione as we make our way across the courtyard. Dean and Seamus chuckle along as Harry, Neville and I zone out of the conversation. “She’s a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn’t got any friends!”

Just then, she bumps into Ron. He turns and watches as she dashes by, hugging her books to her chest, eyes glistening with tears.

“I think she heard you...”

“Good going, Ron,” I said.

Candle lit pumpkins flicker around the -otherwise dim- great hall, thousands of bats flying overhead.

I sit with my arms folded, eyes ripping away from Harry as he sat away from us, chatting away to McGonagall who shared a nod with Hagrid. 

“...I know- that is, we know... the members of staff... that this is perhaps a difficult night for you, Halloween. Your parents...”

“Oh. No, it’s alright, Professor.”

“Very well.”

She turns to go, and Harry shouts after her. 

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Would you listen to this?” Ron huffs, pushing his food around his plate while Neville talks to Seamus. I stuff my Garlic Parmesan toasted potatoes into my mouth as I tune in to the conversation. 

“Parvati Patil said she wouldn’t come out of the bathroom. Said she’d been in there all afternoon. Crying.”

I give Ron a look which he chooses to ignore, pretending he can’t see. Lucky for him that Quirrell came bursting in, yelling like a mad man.

" Troll! In the dungeon! T- TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! " 

The buzzing hall falls to an eerie silence, as Quirrells face pales in front of our eyes.

“Thought you ought to know,” he squeaks out before collapsing to the ground.

The room roared, screaming, pushing. I looked around, rapidly, not grasping the concept of what was happening in the utter pandemonium breakout. The bats went wild, swooping around and shrieking.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, heavy breathing echoing, bouncing off the walls as eyes went to Dumbledore stood high with purple puffs of smoke trailing from his wand.

“Will everyone, please, not panic. Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons.”

Ron and I head straight towards Harry as we follow Percy up the stairs, Ron back to looking glum.

I hit his chest with the back of my hand and whispered amongst the chatter.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just take some bloody accountability.”

He gave me a fierce look and turned to Harry as he spoke. “How did a troll get in!”

“Not on its own. Trolls are really stupid. Probably one of Peeves jokes. He’s always messing about- What?”

“Hermione! She doesn’t know!”

We stop immediately, slipping away from the rest of the Gryffindors and around the nearest corner along with the Hufflepuffs, reaching a deserted hallway. 

As footsteps ring out close by, we duck behind a near statue, a stone Griffin, watching Snape hurry past.

“Is that the third floor he’s heading to?” I whisper as he disappears up a set of steps. “Teachers are meant to be going to the dungeons...”

“What’s that?” Harry interrupted, chuckling his nose. The potent smell of old, worn socks and a public toilet in dyer need of cleaning. 

“Smells like Fred’s socks... only... worse.”

Much worse, I’d guess. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I saw the troll lumbering towards us, enormous club trailing behind it. As it steps into a large patch of moonlight, it blinks stupidly, peering through a door way, then slouching slowly inside. 

I sigh, relieved, examining the suit of armour beside me. “Should we go after it?”

“Follow me,” Harry commands, conforming.

I nod, taking the sword from the armour. We inch towards the door, and Harry take the sword from my hands, ramming it through the handle, trapping the troll inside. 

“Yes!” Ron shouts, Harry giving a proud grin. Suddenly there’s a high-pitched, petrified scream from the other side of the door. 

The boys turned towards me, Harry pointing to the door. “Thorn... this wouldn’t be the girls’ bathroom, would it?”

“No... that’s on the first floor. Snape’s going to the third floor, so...”

“That’s the direct staircase. This is the first floor...” 

After a second of silence, I jump, pulling the sword from the handle, throwing it to the ground. 

“Hurry, hurry!”

We fight to push the door open, falling into the bathroom so see the troll swing it’s club over the stalls, destroying the wood, emitting a scream from Hermione. 

Again, the troll brings its club down, destroying even more stalls.

“Don’t worry, Hermione, we’re here!” Ron yelled, tuning his voice low. “She’s dead.”

“I heard that!”

“What do we do!”

“Distract it!” I yell, looking around, trying to find Hermione from across the bathroom.

“Like, confuse it?” He shrugs, picking up broken pieces of wood. “Hey, pea brain!”

Harry and Ron grab anything they can, launching it all at the troll. They may as well have been hurling marshmallows as the shards of wood bounce off its pint-sized head. 

I move against the wall as it pokes about for Hermione, and I catch her eye. Kneeling to the ground, I carefully look between her and the troll. Going for it, she scrambles from the stalls and dashed under the sink. The troll grunts, furiously, turning and advancing on her. 

It raised its club, and I reach for Hermione just in time, dragging her towards me as it swings down, breaking the sinks. I pull her further towards me, and it makes another move to swing. Harry, thinking fast, takes a run and jump onto the club, dropping onto the trolls neck. It blinks dimly, and before it can react, Harry- instinctively, rams his wand up its nose

The troll groans in pain, dropping the club and stamping about. I stood up, bringing Hermione with me towards Ron. 

He stands helplessly, wand poised as he stares at the club on the ground. “Wingardium leviosA!”

All due to Rons gossiping, he wasn’t inspiring confidence. 

He turns to Hermione and let’s out a shaky breath. “Wingardium leviOsa!”

With that, the club quivers, rising into the air. The troll, still in a rage grabs Harry’s leg and peels him from its sweaty neck. As it suspends him from one leg, it watches in confusion as the club floats past its eyes. 

I grip Rons shoulder, encouraging him as the had risen to the ceiling, falling to thunk on the trolls head. 

Staggering, the troll releases its grip on Harry’s leg, and he falls to the floor with a harsh thud. 

Harry peers up, watching the troll begin to fall, rolling away just in time. I dash towards Harry, dusting him off quickly. 

All is still as we take it how close the troll was, just inches from crushing us all. After a moment, Hermione steps forward and speaks.

“Is it– –dead?” 

“I don’t think so,” Harry says, allowing me to hoist him up. “Just knocked out.”

“No need to kill it after all,” Ron said.

I gave him a smile. “Yeah, well, that was really big of you, Ron.”

Harry leans down, extracting his wand slowly from the trolls nostril, grey glue-like substance trailing out. “Ugh, troll snot...”

He wipes the snot on the trolls trouser just as a whole volley of footsteps announces the arrival of McGonagall, Snape and a queasy looking Quirrell before we actually saw them. We stood straight, facing them as Quirrell paled, sickly. 

“Explain yourselves, the three of you!” McGonagall shouts. 

"Well-"

"It- we, we kind of just'"

"Well, what it is-"

"It's my fault, professor McGonogall," muttered Hermione. McGonagall turned to face her, quickly, only just acknowledging her

"Miss. Granger?" 

"I went looking for the troll. I'd read about them and thought I could handel it," she lied through her teeth. "But I was wrong. If these three hadn't found me... i'd probably be dead."

Ron staggers, wand slipping from his grip, stunned by the lie. He scrambles to pick it up, straightening himself out.

“I’m very disappointed in you, miss. Granger. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your very serious lack of judgement. As for you three," she turned to us. "I just hope you realise how fortunate you are. Not many students could take on a fully grown troll and live to tell the tale."

I stiffened for a moment, realising the impact of what we’d done.

"Five points... will be awarded to each of you... For sheer, dumb luck."

She turned her heal, Snape following behind her.

"It was good of her to get us out of trouble like that," told Harry to Ron and I as Hermione walked silently behind us. 

"Mind you, we did save her from a ‘full grown mountain troll’," Ron said.

" Mind you,  she might not have needed saving if you hadn't insulted her, and if we hadn’t locked the bloody thing in with her," I walked on. Ron turns back to look at Hermione, then back to the front.

"What are friends for?" 


End file.
